


but if you have today (say all that you have to say)

by jxxhyxns



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Drinking, Lee Euiwoong - Freeform, M/M, Minor appearances from:, New Year's Eve, Time Loop, a bit of angst but not a lot bc i'm weak, ahn hyeongseob - Freeform, everyone is well into college tho, hints of allwink because i couldn't resist, kissing under the influence of alcohol, lmk if there's anything else i should tag xo, oh and there's a bit of 2hyun, ong seongwu - Freeform, yoo seonho - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 17:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13745475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxxhyxns/pseuds/jxxhyxns
Summary: Didn't anybody tell the Universe that no one keeps their New Year’s resolutions?Or, Guanlin keeps reliving December 31st until he's able to confess to Jihoon.





	but if you have today (say all that you have to say)

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for the ['sparks fly'](https://twitter.com/sparksfly2033/) panwink project, please make sure to check out all the other works that are a part of it! thank you to the prompter and thank you so much to [jess](https://twitter.com/slackeuse) for organising the project! xx
> 
> thank you to V for beta-ing on short notice ❤
> 
> *title taken from Roger Rabbit by Sleeping With Sirens

Supposedly, everyone’s had those dreams about flying. Not just in a plane, but in the open air, gliding through the sky, bared to the world yet above it in a way that humans can only dream of. Apparently everyone dreams of that at one time or another ー Guanlin never has. What Guanlin dreams about, though, is just as exhilarating. Guanlin dreams about the rooftop and maybe it’s masochistic of his subconscious to replay the memory of him and Jihoon standing shoulder to shoulder looking up and out, towards the stars, but by now he’s used to taking joy from the smallest of moments. He wakes up with the ghost of a smile on his face and the bittersweet tang of potential, lost or otherwise, on the tip of his tongue.

 

He always knows it’s a dream because of the difference in the details, like the absence of the biting winter breeze and the way Jihoon returns Guanlin’s confession in kind. Guanlin’s never dreamt about flying but hearing Jihoon tell him he loves him sure feels like the same thing.

 

Maybe his subconscious is trying to tell him he should have taken the chance. Maybe it’s trying to remind him of the promise he’d made between himself and the shooting star that had flitted across the sky to welcome the new year. The resolution Jihoon had inquired about and Guanlin had immediately broken when his lips remained sealed.

 

After all, that's what the new year is for ー daring to contemplate changes too drastic, too brave, for any other ordinary day ー but in that heady moment shared in the shadows of the moon, when Guanlin had looked down at Jihoon and thought about closing the gap, taking that step had seemed almost realistic. Almost, but not enough to convince his slightly hungover self the next morning that the risk would still be worth taking.

 

The dawn of the new year might be laden with fresh potential but it is almost always squandered and almost always forgotten.

 

Almost.

 

*******

 

**DECEMBER 31, 09:24**

 

Guanlin wakes to the scent of something burning. His eyes are blearily opened for less than a few seconds before the smoke alarm in the kitchen goes off, each shrill beep bluntly driving its way into his temple like a clumsily hammered nail, and he grimaces, rolling over to bury his face into his pillow. It’s times like this that he wishes he lived alone; or had taken Dongho up on his offer of flatsharing once he started college. Instead, Guanlin had remained a loyal friend and stuck by an agreement struck in middle school and while in grade nine they had not thought that living with one’s friends would be anything other than a marvellous time, after enduring a turbulent first year of college dealing with the newly discovered idiosyncrasies of his best friends, Guanlin has long since realised that it is not as effortless an arrangement as they'd initially thought. Nevertheless, it's a worthwhile one - most of the time.

 

He stumbles out into the common area, grabbing a tea towel as he enters the kitchen and joins Hyeongseob in his frantic attempt to blow the smoke emanating from the stove away from the still-screaming alarm on their kitchen ceiling. Part way through the ordeal, Euiwoong comes out with hands pressed over his ears, just to glare at the two of them before returning to his room. (Guanlin is a little offended; Euiwoong should know by now that any and all cooking disasters in their apartment are Hyeongseob’s fault and that Guanlin is closer to being a rescuer than an enabler.) Seonho, unsurprisingly, manages to sleep through it; he could probably sleep through an earthquake or even the invasion of Earth by militant alien lifeforms.

 

Guanlin was fully prepared for an attempt at toast to have triggered the alarm but to Hyeongseob’s credit it seems he’s been making something a little more complicated.

 

Pancakes.

 

He supposes he could even be a little grateful that Hyeongseob’s latest culinary blunder had so successfully woken him from his dreams to the extent that he was far too wide awake to be lulled back to them. If he fell asleep again he’d more than likely return to that dream; the bittersweet one of his and Jihoon’s hypothetical happy ending and, admittedly, on some days he tries to fight the tendrils of consciousness that are pulling him towards the surface, towards the waking world, longing to return to that breathless moment where Jihoon says what he’s always wanted to hear. Some days he wants to prolong it, wants to make the most of the freedom he feels, even if briefly, even if founded on something false.

 

This is not one of those days.

 

Today he has to prepare himself for reality to depart from his dreams. There are too many pitfalls ahead and Guanlin is all too used to navigating them, so he knows just what will help him survive and just what will make everything that much harder. Today is a day where it will be all too easy to let his imagination run away with him. It dearly loves to run but all it ever does is trip and fall and hurt him. Allowing himself to dream more of Jihoon is like starting his day intentionally refusing to tie his shoelaces.

 

Hyeongseob breathes a sigh of relief as the smoke alarm, finally, _finally_ realises the fiery destruction of their apartment is no longer imminent and the two collapse into each other, leaning against the kitchen bench, arms exhausted.

 

“Why the pancakes? Did I miss somebody’s birthday?” Guanlin queries, leaning a cheek on the top of Seob’s head. “Is it _my_ birthday?”

 

“It’s the birthday of your blossoming relationship with Jihoon-hyung!” exclaims Hyeongseob excitedly. “I wanted to make you pancakes for good luck! But it didn’t quite…work.”

 

It’s sweet; more optimistic an outlook than Guanlin himself possesses but nevertheless he can’t help but wonder if burnt pancakes are a bad omen for how this day will go. Not that he’s expecting anything, he reminds himself.

 

“Next time…” Guanlin giggles breathlessly, unable to find the situation anything but funny now that his ears are no longer being assaulted. His next inhale brings with it the scent of charred pancake batter and banana. “Next time, I think a good luck hug might be enough.”

 

The shorter of the two pouts a little but nods where he’s buried in the dip of Guanlin’s shoulder.

 

“Are you done? Like, is it over?” Euiwoong grouches, slouching into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

 

“Shush you!” Seob balls up the tea towel and chucks it at the back of Euiwoong’s head. “Your bad vibes are going to ruin Guanlin’s groove!” The tea towel flops to the ground unheeded and Guanlin bends to pick it up.

 

“I think your catastrophic attempt at cooking has already done that,” Euiwoong replies without so much as looking at his attacker.

 

“Guanlin doesn’t have a groove. Seriously, have you never seen him dance?” chimes in Seonho as he joins them in the kitchen.

 

Guanlin promptly chucks the tea towel in his hands at Seonho, the square of fabric probably used as a projectile in their household more often than for any actual cleaning. Seonho just yawns and side steps it.

 

“You guys are really going to tear down my self-esteem today of all days?”

 

“Gotta remind you that just because you’re going to have a boyfriend now, that doesn’t automatically make you hot shit.”

 

Guanlin pulls a face and clutches at Hyeongseob dramatically. “Seobbie, why are you the only one who loves me?”

 

“For your sake, you’d better hope that’s not true,” teases Seonho before flinging himself onto Guanlin and Hyeongseob in a kind of group hug.

 

At the beckoning of Hyeongseob, and just the slightest bit of aegyo, Woong joins them and Guanlin is oddly touched by the group hug, and the fact that all three of his friends are up and awake before 10am in support of him. It has taken him 364 days to work up the courage to confess to Jihoon since making the decision to, but he knows that no matter what happens, all he really needs are the friends he has clutched tight in his arms in this moment.

 

It doesn’t take all day, but certainly a number of hours before Seonho is satisfied with Guanlin’s outfit for Minhyun’s New Year’s Eve party.

 

He surveys himself in the mirror; gaze moving from his round wire specs to his dusty pink button up and black jeans. “This is literally the first one I picked out. I was literally going to wear this anyway before you intervened.”

 

“Yes but we didn’t know that until we’d considered all the other ones!”

 

“We could have known that. We could have known that if, when I’d said ‘I like this one’ you’d said ‘Okay! Wear that!’” grouches Guanlin but there’s no heat in his words. For all Seonho’s finicky fashion sense, the whole ordeal has taken Guanlin’s mind off things and helped to settle his nerves. But once he steps out the door all the nerves come bubbling back up again.

 

“I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, but I didn’t think you’d forget to tie your shoelaces, Lin,” Seonho remarks before Guanlin can get in the car and, startled, he looks down to check.

 

Guanlin is a lot of things - a quick learner, optimistic to a fault, shy around strangers - and gullible has always been one of them. When he looks up, Seonho has already hopped in the driver’s side and taken off without him. Hyeongseob sends him a pitying look over his shoulder out the rear view window.

 

He takes everything back. He needs better friends.

 

Sighing he takes out his phone and calls Euiwoong, and then Hyeongseob, but neither of them answer so it’s unlikely they’ve just decided to take a jilt around the block and come back for him. He contemplates who he should dial to pick him up; not many of their friends have their full licence. God knows how Seonho is one of them.

 

Minhyun and Jonghyun are quite obviously out of the question and Jisung and Daniel were getting there early to help set up so he’d feel bad asking them to come all the way here and then back again. There is one other option and he has a feeling that’s the whole reason his friends had suddenly and unexpectedly betrayed him in the most juvenile manner imaginable.

 

Maybe he should just take the bus.

 

Before he can make a decision, though, a car pulls up in front of him and that’s when Guanlin decides he’s never telling his friends anything ever again.

 

“Ready to go?” asks Jihoon after leaning across and rolling down the passenger side window.

 

Guanlin just nods and slips his phone into his back pocket before hopping in the car. “Thanks for the, uh, ride.”

 

“Anytime. Seonho said he couldn’t give you one?”

 

“Apparently not.”

 

“Do you mind if I turn on the radio?” Jihoon asks.

 

Guanlin nods absently, too busy admiring how good Jihoon looks today in his denim jacket with black stud earrings settled in the lobes of his ears. It doesn’t help that there’s something about Jihoon’s hands grasping the wheel that adds to the whole look. He’d never really understood why people said being behind the wheel of a car made a person ten times more attractive - but then he’d seen Jihoon driving for the first time. He’s halfway to dreaming about what it would be like for Jihoon to drive with one hand on the wheel and the other interlaced with Guanlin’s, when Jihoon’s gaze flicks over to his passenger, lips quirking a quick smile before he returns his attention to the road.

 

Caught.

 

Cheeks colouring, Guanlin tunes out the radio broadcaster as they begin to contemplate the likelihood of the last day of the year bringing with it the first snow of the season, tearing his eyes away from the side of Jihoon’s face to instead look out the window. As EXO’s The First Snow fills the comfortable silence, Guanlin can’t help turning over the opportunity he’s been given in his head.

 

He and Jihoon are alone; something that may be difficult to achieve once everything gets into full swing up at Minhyun’s. In theory, he could just confess right here and now. Jihoon would have to hear him out. Although, if things go pear-shaped the rest of the ride will not only be incredibly awkward, but he will certainly have to find a way to avoid Jihoon in Minhyun’s small apartment for the duration of the night.

 

Or worse, his confession could take Jihoon by surprise and cause him to crash the car.

 

As tempting as the companionable atmosphere of a car ride often is, Guanlin decides that it’s not the right time. He’s made a similar assessment every other day of the year but he swears he won’t let himself procrastinate any longer. He will confess today, no doubt about it. Just, not now.

 

Besides, he has a couple of tasks recently added to the top of his To Do List. Like, give his friends an earful for being interfering little shits. It just goes to show how excited they are for him, he supposes. How much they must have wished he’d do something about his feelings and to their credit, they rarely, if ever, gave him a hard time about it.

 

But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to give them a hard time about ditching him. He weaves his way through the crowd of people that have already gathered inside and tackles Seonho, playfully but violently enough to cause him to slosh some of his beer over himself. Karma’s a bitch. The other two are saved from Guanlin’s retribution when Jinyoung and Daehwi squeeze through the maze of bodies that fill Minhyun’s living room to greet them.

 

He tries his best not to stare, he really, really does but somehow his eyes always find their way to Jihoon and yet, he can’t think of how best to say what he wishes, can’t foresee an opportunity private or quiet or intimate enough for it to be appropriate for him to press his heart into Jihoon’s hands. Seonho must sense his agitation because his friend reaches out to take his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

 

At some point during the night, Minhyun clinks a spoon against his wine glass to attract everyone’s attention. Or rather Minhyun, possessing more old fashioned decorum than the rest of the group combined, attempts to initiate a toast of sorts but the gentle clink of metal against glass can’t be heard over the hubbub so Sungwoon takes it upon himself to yell, “Oi losers! Listen up!”

 

Minhyun offers a hand to Jonghyun and gently helps him up onto the chair beside him before addressing all their friends who have gathered together to celebrate the end of the year and the beginning of the next. “We have an announcement,” Minhyun proclaims and Jonghyun positively glows.

 

“Jonghyun’s pregnant!” someone, most likely Seongwu, yells obnoxiously and Jonghyun positively reddens at the statement while Minhyun just laughs.

 

“Oh, is there something you wanted to tell me?” he teases his boyfriend who mutely shakes his head in embarrassment. “No? Well there’s something I want to ask you. I know we already talked about it but I want to do it properly.”

 

Minhyun hops down off the chair and hands his glass off to someone in what has essentially become the front row of his audience. Then he drops to one knee.

 

There’s a collective gasp about the room and Guanlin has to press a hand against his mouth in order to contain the squeal of excited glee that bubbles up and threatens to spill from his lips.

 

Jonghyun’s eyes are watering with tears before Minhyun even reaches into his pocket to pull out the ring. As per Minhyun’s words, the two must have already agreed upon the matter in private, otherwise there’s no way he’d put Jonghyun at the centre of such a public scene, but the latter still looks like he’s watching the birth of the andromeda galaxy right before his eyes as he regards his boyfriend kneeling before him, asking that the two of them remain together for the rest of their lives, and beyond.

 

“Kim Jonghyun, will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

 

The cheer from the partygoers in the room nearly drowns out Jonghyun’s choked “Yes” as he leaps down to pull his boyfriend, now fiance, to his feet and into a fierce hug. When they pull apart, Minhyun brings them back together again by leaning down to capture Jonghyun in a kiss, who blushes and shyly buries his face in Minhyun’s neck after the fifth wolf whistle. (The whistling stops when Sewoon smacks Jaehwan on the back of the head for ruining the moment.)

 

It’s now, pure joy emanating from every pore, that everyone can admire the change in Jonghyun, who always seemed so weary from carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for so long but no longer needs to because his world has become Minhyun; and Minhyun it will always be. Everything seems to sparkle as if Minhyun had whipped out a diamond ring instead of a plastic band from a One Piece gacha.

  
Seonho, still just shy of Guanlin's height even after all these years, leans his chin on his friend's shoulder and whispers in awe, "They're so perfect, how are they so perfect?"

  
He hums in agreement because sometimes, rare though they might be, there are two people in the world so undeniably destined for each other that it's almost a universally acknowledged truth from the moment they meet. Two people the Universe has crafted to fit together so well that no matter what happens or where they go, they will always find themselves back in each other's embrace. That's Minhyun and Jonghyun in a nutshell and for better or worse, seeing them feeds Guanlin's romanticism; grows it, dares it to bloom.

  
  
Tearing his eyes away from the enchanting couple, he glances about the room, wanting to tally how many criers they have among them tonight. He doesn't even need to look at Jisung to know that he's one of them. Unsurprisingly, Jihoon is dry-eyed but that could partially be because he’s not looking at the happy couple. For whatever reason, he’s gazing across the room at Guanlin and the two share a smile over how sweet Minhyun and Jonghyun are. Guanlin wonders if Jihoon too has been drawn into romantic thoughts but given his usual cynicism, he's more likely to see the newly engaged couple as a case of serendipity rather than fate.

 

Guanlin continues surveying the room and a slight turn reveals where Seongwu has been standing the whole time, to Guanlin’s right, a few haphazard rows of revellers behind him. It must have been Seongwu that had yelled out to embarrass Jonghyun earlier and, perhaps this explains why Jihoon had been looking over here instead of at the main event.

 

Whatever was happening between Jihoon and Seongwu, Guanlin doesn’t know, but he can guess - and, from the looks of it, it’s no longer happening. He doesn’t know how to feel about that but it’s not the first time there’s been a romantic entanglement in their friendship group involving Jihoon and it most likely won’t be the last. He just hopes for Jihoon’s sake that he can come out the other side with their friendship still in tact, just like he was able to do with Daniel.

 

Given the confines of the venue, the crowd doesn’t disperse so much as it reshuffles, as individuals take turns to offer their congratulations and Daniel runs off to find Jisung a box of tissues. Whoever is in control of the bluetooth speaker starts up the music again and Guanlin wouldn’t be surprised if Minhyun had spent time composing a post-proposal playlist as he watches the two slip into a ballroom dance in the middle of the living room. It’s far from elaborate, mostly swaying to and fro, but it’s as if they’re the only two people in the world, the stars of their very own fairytale. So much so, they don’t even notice the pairs that spring up here and there in their own imitation of the couple’s dancing. Jaehwan spins Sewoon a little too vigorously and the two nearly teeter into the drinks table.

 

Seonho follows suit, detaching himself from where he’s glued his chin to Guanlin’s shoulder and instead dipping into a ridiculously exaggerated bow, inviting him into their own little laughing tango.

 

“You’ve been pipped at the post,” Seonho tells Guanlin regretfully as he rocks them back and forth. “The romance quota for the night has already been filled. Try again next year.”

 

Guanlin laughs and uses their interlaced hands to push Seonho off balance, but he himself is startled when he hears an amused voice at his shoulder.

 

“What’s this? Guanlin were you planning to propose to someone too?” Jihoon asks with over exaggerated shock.

 

Guanlin doesn’t know where to look when Jihoon’s eyes are twinkling with such amusement, entirely unaware that, although far from a proposal, it is he who would be on the receiving end of Guanlin’s planned confession.

 

“Don’t worry, you still have a couple of hours until midnight,” the older continues. “That’s enough time for Seonho to say yes before he turns back into a pumpkin. Right?”

 

Seonho pokes out his tongue in retaliation. “If you keep up the disrespect, you won’t be invited to the wedding, hyung.”

 

“What if Guanlin needs a lift to the venue? You won’t be able to give him one, not in your pumpkin coach.” There’s something odd, almost terse, about Jihoon’s tone but Guanlin puts it down to the late hour and the strain of extending an already ill-fitting analogy.

 

 _“I thought I was the pumpkin?”_ mutters Seonho, obviously perplexed at the image of near autocannibalistic transport. Jihoon turns his attention from Seonho to Guanlin.

 

“Since I apparently won’t get a chance at the wedding, may I ask for a dance now?” He stretches out his hand, not unlike the way Minhyun had when lifting Jonghyun to stand beside him during the toast and Guanlin quite honestly wonders if the two standard drinks worth of alcohol he’s had thus far would be enough to bring on a delusion wherein Jihoon was asking him for a dance like in some old-fashioned movie.

 

Guanlin doesn’t get long to splutter over his answer because Seonho is rolling his eyes and pushing him so that he stumbles into Jihoon’s chest. “Take him and his two left feet! Good riddance,” he complains before promptly leaving in search of someone else to insult.

 

Cheeks reddening, Guanlin rights himself and puts a little distance between him and his new dance partner, trying his best not to fixate on the way Jihoon’s hands have settled on his waist. Their height difference is far more prominent than between he and Seonho and at this distance, Jihoon has to peer up at Guanlin from beneath his eyelashes. Their hands find each other and Guanlin places one of his on Jihoon’s shoulder as they begin to move to the music, slowly, almost hesitantly. Where his dance with Seonho had been all sloppy footwork and jerking, playful movements, with Jihoon it is entirely different. Guanlin lets Jihoon lead but the older is unexpectedly careful with Guanlin, like he’s something fragile that might fracture under pressure, like Jihoon isn’t sure he has a right to have placed a featherlight hand on Guanlin's hip despite receiving permission.

 

It is taking all the strength in Guanlin’s wiry body and fluttering spirit to remind himself that their dance, despite its softness amidst the harsh landscape of Minghao’s dabs and Euiwoong’s robot dancing, is not the same as that shared between Minhyun and Jonghyun. Jihoon is just like this. He does things sometimes that make Guanlin’s heart stop and stutter and restart but they never mean anything. That’s just how Jihoon is. Maybe others would misinterpret their tactile friendship and, admittedly, Guanlin does have to exert effort not to do the same but he can appreciate that this is a privilege of being friends with Jihoon.

 

Maybe it would be cruel if Jihoon knew of Guanlin’s hidden feelings, maybe then Jihoon’s heart-fluttering moments would be woven into a thread he could use to string Guanlin along, but that is not the case. If anything, if Jihoon were to know, this kind of closeness is what Guanlin imagines would be the first thing to go. Not because Jihoon is uncomfortable necessarily, but because he’ll see it as in Guanlin’s best interests. He’s always doing what he can to protect Guanlin, as if he’s the younger brother he never had, and that’s part of the reason why Guanlin has never said anything. Part of the reason he’s never allowed himself to hope. So instead of questioning it, Guanlin revels in the effortless closeness because, if he succeeds in his goal, for all he knows it could be gone tomorrow.

 

“You haven’t stepped on my toes yet, I’m impressed.”

 

Guanlin looks down at their feet, which have barely moved since the dance began, before catching Jihoon’s eye and smiling wryly, “If I step on Seonho’s toes it’s because he deserves it.”

 

“What has he done to deserve such a thing?”

 

“What hasn’t he?”

 

Jihoon snorts as Guanlin takes the lead and extends an arm, spinning him out to the side.“You expect me to believe it isn’t mutual?”

“What are you saying? I’m an angel,” he pouts in affected offense as he pulls Jihoon back in, the momentum causing him to spin until he finds himself with his back pressed to Guanlin’s chest, in the circle of his arms.

 

“Is that what it’s called? I was wondering what the word was,” Jihoon replies as he ever so dangerously turns his head in order to look at Guanlin as he speaks.

 

Dangerous, because it brings him far too close to where Guanlin has leant forward to settle his head on his shoulder. Dangerous, because Guanlin can feel Jihoon’s breath on his lips and the temptation to close the accidentally diminished space between them is far, far too great considering the consequences and the fact that they’re surrounded by all of their friends.

 

Guanlin jerks his head back and realises that this might just be a tipping point; he should say something before he makes an error of judgement.

 

“I think I need some air,” he says, releasing his hold on Jihoon. “I’ll go up to the roof for a bit but come find me later, okay? There’s something I want to talk to you about.” The older’s face is immediately shrouded with concern and Guanlin rushes to reassure him. “It’s nothing bad, but it’s important.”

 

“Okay,” Jihoon acknowledges with a soft smile. “Go get some air, I’ll see you soon.”

 

With that, Guanlin breaks out of the bubble the two of them have created long after the song changed to one less disposed to slow dancing. When he ascends the stairs and pushes open the door onto the rooftop, the wind carries with it the memory of a similar scene last year where Guanlin had resolved to do just what he would finally make happen tonight. Except this time, as Guanlin enjoys the fresh air and admires the view, nobody joins him.

 

Maybe Jihoon has forgotten, he reasons.

 

Maybe he has become waylaid by a drunken party-goer who threw up on his shoes.

 

Maybe he just didn’t want to come.

 

The longer Guanlin stays there, the more it seems as if the wind whistling through his hair and clothes is mocking him. The longer he stays there, the more his ears redden, from the cold, from the embarrassment of being stood up by someone he considered a friend.

 

He could go back down and see where Jihoon is but if he has forgotten, then disturbing him to remind him would make Guanlin feel kind of silly. After all, they’re at a party to have fun, not to enter into an emotionally draining heart to heart session. If Jihoon has chosen not to come, for fear of what Guanlin will say or for whatever other reason, then Guanlin will feel foolish for insisting. Either way, if Guanlin goes back inside he will lose his nerve entirely so it’s all he can do to remain on the rooftop and wait, just in case Jihoon will appear.

 

Euiwoong is always telling him not to beat himself up about things unnecessarily but it’s so hard not to when his current predicament, waiting alone in the cold for someone who it seems will never come, is entirely his fault. He wishes he was someone less obvious, so that Jihoon wouldn’t have seen his confession coming and high-tailed it to avoid confrontation. He wishes he was someone more confident, who could have told Jihoon months ago when he first decided he needed to get it off his chest. But most of all, he wishes he was someone who hadn’t fallen in love with an unattainable social butterfly like Park Jihoon in the first place.

 

His hands are so cold now that he almost doesn’t notice the flutter of ice crystals landing against the pallor of his skin. The first snow of the winter settles around Guanlin, on his hair, on his eyelashes as he looks up into the sky in askance. It’s not quite cold enough to stop the ice from melting as it comes into contact with him but it still counts as the first snow and the part of him that is ever the daydreamer, can’t help but imagine just how pretty, just how romantic this scene could have been if only Jihoon were there with him. (If only Jihoon loved him back.)

 

Bone-tired and hollowed out, Guanlin finally goes inside and finds his way to Minhyun’s bedroom. He hopes the other won’t mind as he collapses into bed, the thought that tomorrow is not only a new day, but a new year, is his only comfort as he slips into unconsciousness. His dreams take him back to that moment with Jihoon once again, but with the sting of being forgotten still lancing through his chest, Guanlin's subconscious sees fit to remind him of just what happened last year on that rooftop, not what he wishes it had been.

 

This time it doesn't feel like flying; it feels like falling with no one to catch him.

 

***

 

_With every step he took up the stairs, the music from the party dulled until it was merely a throb in Guanlin’s auditory periphery. He loved his friends and he even begrudgingly loved the self-composed mixtape Euiwoong was currently blasting after commandeering the bluetooth speakers but Guanlin just needed some air and a little bit of space to himself._

 

_As he pushed open the door and stepped onto the rooftop of Minhyun’s apartment building, a sharp breeze buffeted across his face, ruffling his carefully styled hair and clothes. Inside had become incredibly stuffy and the way the sweat that had gathered at his temples and in the dips of his back was cooled by the evening air was divine in comparison._

 

_The elevation, the distance from the bustle of his life, was just what he needed because maybe it wasn’t just the noise, or the claustrophobic apartment that had been getting to him. Maybe it was how, as everyone became more and more dishevelled from all the dancing, Jihoon only seemed to become more and more beautiful. (And it only became harder and harder for Guanlin to stay away.)_

 

_Like always, Guanlin couldn’t help but zero in on the older boy and now was as good a time as any to remind himself that he should be mindful of the fixation, especially if he didn’t intend to do anything about it. But Jihoon had always occupied a larger portion of his consciousness than the older could ever suspect, and it’s meant that Guanlin had never been quite sure of where he stood with Jihoon._

 

_Guanlin knew you shouldn’t make your life about a boy, your personality shouldn't depend on liking said boy and you certainly shouldn’t choose your preferred institution of tertiary education based on where a certain boy may or may not have been studying - but nevertheless, a boy had become a part of Guanlin’s adolescence, his journey to adulthood and beyond; a boy was in some of his best memories and some of his worst to an extent that Jihoon probably wouldn’t even remember. A boy, and Guanlin’s love for him, was a part of him now, irrevocably. Jihoon had sewn himself into the fabric of Guanlin’s reality in a way that was irreversible but not altogether awful, often far from it despite the discomfort of unreciprocated affection. It was bittersweet and Guanlin had always had as much of a sweet tooth as he’d had rose-tinted glasses._

 

_Which was why he had never tried to put a stop to his snowballing feelings. There was something lovely about being in love – but it was his propensity for exactly this kind of outlook that kept him in his current stasis, frozen in a moment that some of his friends believed should have ended with high school graduation, if not before. Now, he had his first year of college laid out before him and he had to decide whether he wanted to step onto that path the same Lai Guanlin he’d been throughout high school. The same Lai Guanlin who lived and loved silently. The same Lai Guanlin who was content with that._

 

_In its own way, it was a survival mechanism; to harbour a fondness for a private pain you were stuck with yet had no hand in choosing._

 

_“Why don’t you say anything?” Seonho had often asked him and Guanlin couldn’t blame his best friend for struggling to understand. Guanlin didn’t quite understand himself. All he knew was that he had become accustomed to crushing on his cute senior and even when Jihoon had become more than that, first a tutor in Korean and then a friend, and even when Guanlin’s feelings had become more than that, first an infatuation and now, well, whatever this was - nothing about his intentions had changed._

 

_He was so lost in thought, closing his eyes and relaxing into the breeze, that he barely noticed someone join him._

 

_“What are you up here for?” Jihoon asked, appearing at Guanlin’s shoulder._

 

_“Needed some peace and quiet,” he answered with a small smile but shook his head when Jihoon motioned to leave. He’d cleared his head enough to taper the temptation and he didn’t think there’d ever be a time when he genuinely wouldn’t want Jihoon’s company. “It’s okay; you can stay. I just wanted to...I feel like the new year is going to come so quickly, that I want to be able to think a little as it happens, you know? Reflect. About how I want next year to be.”_

 

_“I didn’t know you were into new year’s resolutions,” remarked Jihoon, surprise colouring his voice._

 

There are a few things you don’t know about me _, Guanlin couldn’t help but think,_ but maybe I want to change that.

 

_He flushed a little, self-conscious about whether or not Jihoon would find his new year idealism silly. “I think they’re...nice. I like the idea of starting the year off with a little optimism. I don’t always keep them, mind you, but I like to at least try.”_

 

_“I like that you like to try. Most people don’t. They just say they’ll go to the gym, or stop drinking or whatever but it never actually happens.”_

 

_It was unexpected, the way Jihoon’s words had hit Guanlin square in the chest. Maybe it was the way he had so directly told Guanlin there was something about him that he liked. Maybe it was the fact that, for arguably the most significant issue in his life, he hadn’t really been trying at all._

 

_He’d never given his feelings a shot, had never given himself a chance; not to be with Jihoon, not even to move on. Why hadn’t he tried at this like he had at learning korean? Or competitive basketball? Or that one time he’d tried to match Seonho’s eating pace at dinner?_

 

_“I don’t think you’re giving most people enough credit,” Guanlin teased lightly. “Don’t you have regrets? Things you wish you’d done, but didn’t? Things you want to change?”_

 

_“Do you?” Jihoon turned the question back at Guanlin, scrutinising his face. “I’d be surprised. Aren’t you only meant to regret things when you’re old and grey?”_

 

_“What? Like you?”_

 

_“No, like Jisung- I’m not that much older than you, you punk.”_

 

_Guanlin rolled his eyes. Jihoon would always play the hyung card in order to baby Guanlin until it came back to bite him._

 

_There was silence as the two stood side by side and stared out into the night where the faintest sparkle of stars could be seen despite the strength of the artificial city lights below._

 

_In theory, Guanlin was too young to have regrets. Then again, Guanlin was old enough to have studied abroad since middle school; old enough to have done so in a country where he didn’t speak the language; old enough to have found himself pathetically well-acquainted with the intricacies of unrequited love. Jihoon was always so quick to tell him that he was too young to have regrets, but little did he know that he was on the verge of becoming one of Guanlin’s greatest._

 

_Unless, of course, Guanlin did something about it._

 

_“So what if I do?” Jihoon broke the silence._

 

_“Hmm?”_

 

_“What if I do have regrets? What if there’s somebody..something I should have been more careful of? How do I make sure I don’t make the same mistakes?”_

 

_Guanlin wasn’t oblivious. Jihoon was clearly thinking of somebody in particular and in spite of the curiosity clawing up his throat he didn’t pry. “You can’t.”_

 

_The older flinched at his words and Guanlin turned towards him, feeling a little guilty for speaking his mind so frankly. “I can’t?”_

 

_“You can’t make sure of anything. But you can try. Is trying worth it?”_

 

_Jihoon didn’t answer for a long time, and Guanlin was beginning to think that he’d thought the question a rhetorical one. The older seemed to be searching for something in Guanlin’s eyes and he supposed that what Jihoon was really looking at was his own reflection, soul-searching through the mirror of Guanlin’s gaze in order to find an answer._

 

_For Guanlin’s part, he almost got lost in the depth of Jihoon’s stare and even after all this time, his pulse still fluttered when Jihoon was close enough to touch, close enough for Guanlin to realise anew that Jihoon was not just in his orbit, but that theirs intersected; if only through the shared history of the same high school._

 

_“Yes,” Jihoon murmured in answer, his words startling Guanlin. “It is.”_

 

_Collecting himself, Guanlin licked his lips and glanced away, out at the view. “Why don’t we...why don’t we make a promise together, then?” He tentatively offered his pinky finger. “Whatever it is we’re thinking we want to change, let’s resolve to do it.”_

 

_The corner of Jihoon’s mouth lifted in a smile as he wrapped his own pinky finger around Guanlin’s. “Okay, let’s do it.”_

 

_They pressed their thumbs together to seal the promise and the look of curiosity in Jihoon's eyes spoke of how much he wanted to ask just what it was that Guanlin had resolved to do. The younger's heartbeat quickened at the prospect of being handed an opportunity to immediately fulfil what he'd promised himself he'd do in the new year. He didn't know himself what he would say if Jihoon asked; and he did._

 

" _What is it you want to do, Lin? What's your resolution?" They were still holding hands._

 

_It would almost be too easy for him to answer; it would only need a few words, or no words at all. Guanlin could simply lean down and press his lips to Jihoon's in answer to his question but maybe then Jihoon would regret asking at all. This was about mitigating regrets, but that wouldn't work if Guanlin rushed in without considering the consequences. He had time. He decided to make use of it._

 

_Swallowing, Guanlin's eyes flickered away from Jihoon's face, back to the sky just in time to see the shooting star that glimmered amongst its stationary friends for the briefest of moments before disappearing. As he watched the space where the shooting star had once been, he promised himself that not speaking now would not mean never saying those words._

 

_"When it happens, I promise you'll be the first to know."_

 

_With that Guanlin released Jihoon's hand and turned to head back down to the party in time for the countdown, not seeing the wistful look in Jihoon’s eyes or the way the other's hand remained outstretched as if hoping that Guanlin's would return to it._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**DECEMBER 31, 09:24**

 

Guanlin wakes to the scent of something burning. He’s in his own bed at home, the others must have brought him back last night, or early this morning, or whenever it was the four of them made it home. His eyes are blearily opened for less than a few seconds before the smoke alarm in the kitchen goes off, and Guanlin wonders if he’d been too optimistic to think that Hyeongseob would have learnt from the events of yesterday.

 

“Again?” he exclaims, moving to the kitchen to help fan the smoke once again.

 

 _“What?”_ Hyeongseob mouths, unable to hear anything over the alarm and Guanlin rolls his eyes, deciding to wait until after the noise has died down before imploring Hyeongseob to at least ask for supervision when entering the kitchen.

 

Euiwoong pokes his head in to glare at them and, a little grouchily, Guanlin wonders why he doesn’t lend a hand if he’s going to be making a habit of getting up to reproach them anyway. Seonho must still be sleeping off his hangover from last night because he doesn’t stirr.

 

“Are these commiseration pancakes?” he inquires once silence has, finally, blessedly blanketed the kitchen.

 

“For what?”

 

He awkwardly scuffs his foot against the kitchen tiles and mumbles, “My rejection.” Thankfully, his voice doesn’t crack even though the word is a little painful to get out. He didn't have the chance to tell them how things went in so many words but if they’d found him curled up on Minhyun’s bed in the fetal position then that was probably enough of a clue.

 

“Don’t be so pessimistic! You don’t know how it will go!”

 

He jerks his head up to look at Hyeongseob in confusion. “But...I mean...isn’t yesterday enough of an indication? Being stood up is answer enough, really.”

 

It’s Hyeongseob’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me you saw Jihoon yesterday.”

 

“Didn’t we all? At Minhyun’s?”

 

Before Hyeongseob can reply, Euiwoong drags himself into the room and over to the coffee maker. “Are you done? Like, is it over?”

 

“Shush you!” Seob balls up the tea towel and chucks it at the back of Euiwoong’s head. “Your bad vibes are going to ruin Guanlin’s groove!” The tea towel flops to the ground unheeded and Guanlin bends to pick it up. Funny, he’s sure he put it in the wash after it made contact with the floor a few too many times yesterday.

 

“I think your catastrophic attempt at cooking has already done that,” Euiwoong replies without so much as looking at his attacker.

 

“Guanlin doesn’t have a groove. Seriously, have you never seen him dance?” chimes in Seonho as he joins them in the kitchen.

 

By now, Guanlin is experiencing a serious case of deja vu, unless Seonho is just becoming less imaginative with his insults and has started recycling them. Can it be, that he had dreamt all of yesterday's supposed events?

 

“You guys are really going to tear down my self-esteem today of all days?” His own voice sounds odd to his ears. Like an echo. "Today...what day is it today?" he cautiously asks.

 

“Gotta remind you that just because you’re going to have a boyfriend now, that doesn’t automatically make you hot shit,” says Euiwoong before giving him an odd look. "Gotta remind you what day it is too, apparently. Dude it's December 31st, why else would we be going to a New Year's Eve party?"

 

It really must have been a dream. Wow, he seriously needs to stop drinking caffeine before he goes to bed. Guanlin pulls a face and clutches at Hyeongseob dramatically. “So harsh! Seobbie, why are you the only one who loves me?”

 

“For your sake, you’d better hope that’s not true,” teases Seonho before flinging himself onto Guanlin and Hyeongseob in a kind of group hug and at the beckoning of Hyeongseob, and just the slightest bit of aegyo, Woong joins them.

 

The affection from his friends is enough to take the edge off his worry; just because he’d had a, frankly, pathetic dream last night about being stood up by Jihoon, it doesn’t meant it will actually happen. His subconscious needs to chill out.

 

Throughout Seonho’s painful and ultimately redundant outfit selection process, Guanlin is able to disregard the eerie remnants of his dream that had been left in the corners of his consciousness but when Seonho pranks him about his shoelaces, he feels as if he should have seen it coming. Maybe Seonho is just getting predictable in his old age of twenty one.

 

Sighing as he watches his so-called friends drive away, he takes out his phone and calls Euiwoong, and then Hyeongseob, but neither of them answer so it’s unlikely they’ve just decided to take a jilt around the block and come back for him. He contemplates who he should dial to pick him up; not many of their friends have their full licence. God knows how Seonho is one of them.

 

Minhyun and Jonghyun are quite obviously out of the question and Jisung and Daniel getting there early to help set up so he’d feel bad asking them to come all the way here and then back again. There is one other option and he has a feeling that’s the whole reason his friends had suddenly and unexpectedly betrayed him in the most juvenile manner imaginable.

 

Maybe he should just take the bus.

 

Before he can make a decision, though, a car pulls up in front of him and that’s when Guanlin decides he’s never telling his friends anything ever again.

 

“Ready to go?” asks Jihoon after leaning across and rolling down the passenger side window.

 

Guanlin just nods and slips his phone into his back pocket before hopping in the car. “Thanks for the, uh, ride.”

 

“Anytime. Seonho said he couldn’t give you one?”

 

“Apparently not.”

 

“Do you mind if I turn on the radio?” Jihoon asks.

 

Guanlin nods absently, too busy admiring how good Jihoon looks today in his denim jacket with black stud earrings settled in the lobes of his ears. He thinks dream-Jihoon might have been wearing this outfit and although the details are no longer as fresh as when he’d just woken, he acknowledges just how gone he must be to have memorised one of Jihoon’s looks for it to appear in one of his dreams. He gulps back the lump of attraction in his throat at the image of Jihoon driving and all the consequent, associated daydreams that Guanlin can’t help but indulge in.

 

For some reason, Guanlin is less than surprised when Minhyun drops down on one knee to propose to his long-time boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less ecstatic for the couple, joining Seonho in a poor imitation of a tango or waltz or some other ballroom dance in celebration.

 

“You’ve been pipped at the post,” Seonho tells Guanlin regretfully as he rocks them back and forth. “The romance quota for the night has already been filled. Try again next year.”

 

Guanlin laughs away how familiar the jibe is and uses their interlaced hands to push Seonho off balance, but he thinks he really must be sleepwalking when he hears a voice over his shoulder, just like in his dream.

 

“What’s this? Guanlin were you planning to propose to someone too?” Jihoon asks with over exaggerated shock.

 

Guanlin doesn’t know where to look when Jihoon’s eyes are twinkling with such amusement, entirely unaware that, although far from a proposal, it is he who would be on the receiving end of Guanlin’s planned confession.

 

“Don’t worry, you still have a couple of hours until midnight,” the older continues. “That’s enough time for Seonho to say yes before he turns back into a pumpkin. Right?”

 

Seonho pokes out his tongue in retaliation. “If you keep up the disrespect, you won’t be invited to the wedding, hyung.”

 

“What if Guanlin needs a lift to the venue? You won’t be able to give him one, not in your pumpkin coach.” There’s something odd, almost terse, about Jihoon’s tone but Guanlin puts it down to the late hour and the strain of extending an already ill-fitting analogy.

 

 _“I thought I was the pumpkin?”_ mutters Seonho, obviously perplexed at the image of near autocannibalistic transport. Jihoon turns his attention from Seonho to Guanlin.

 

“Since I apparently won’t get a chance at the wedding, may I ask for a dance now?”

 

Dream!Guanlin had struggled to compose himself in order to answer and Guanlin of the waking world is no more eloquent. Seonho rolls his eyes and interrupts his spluttering, pushing him so that he stumbles into Jihoon’s chest.

 

“Take him and his two left feet! Good riddance,” he complains before promptly leaving in search of someone else to insult.

 

“You haven’t stepped on my toes yet, I’m impressed.”

 

Guanlin looks down at their feet, which have barely moved since the dance began, before catching Jihoon’s eye and smiling wryly, “If I step on Seonho’s toes it’s because he deserves it.”

 

“What has he done to deserve such a thing?”

 

“What hasn’t he?”

 

Jihoon snorts as Guanlin takes the lead and extends an arm, spinning him out to the side.“You expect me to believe it isn’t mutual?”

 

“What are you saying? I’m an angel,” he pouts in affected offense as he pulls Jihoon back in, the momentum causing him to spin until he finds himself with his back pressed to Guanlin’s chest, in the circle of his arms.

 

“Is that what it’s called? I was wondering what the word was,” Jihoon replies as he ever so dangerously turns his head in order to look at Guanlin as he speaks.

 

But Guanlin sees the danger coming, jerking his head back before the proximity can become too much but nevertheless, he realises that this might just be a tipping point; he should say something before he makes an error of judgment.

 

“I think I need some air,” he says, releasing his hold on Jihoon. “I’ll go up to the roof for a bit but come find me later okay? There’s something I want to talk to you about.” The older’s face is immediately shrouded with concern and Guanlin rushes to reassure him. “It’s nothing bad, but it’s important.”

 

“Okay,” Jihoon acknowledges with a soft smile. “Go get some air, I’ll see you soon.”

 

As he ascends the stairs, Guanlin can’t shake the uneasiness that has weighed on his shoulders all day. The ominous feeling that drags him down and tells him that Jihoon won’t come, just like in his dream, but he refuses to let it prevail. There’s no reason real life has to turn out like his dream. In real life, the Jihoon he knows wouldn’t stand him up like that. It was just the amalgamation of his fears coming to light when his subconscious was vulnerable.

 

Guanlin’s not sure if it’s his imagination that the wind grows colder and harsher but he isn’t imagining the silence or the emptiness of the rooftop when it is just him, alone. Maybe his subconscious was trying to prepare him for the disappointment. Maybe it was a prophetic dream to lessen the blow, but even if it was, it doesn’t work.

 

It still hurts.

 

It still hurts so much he can’t bear returning to a room full of happy, boisterous people. Instead, he finds his way to Minhyun’s room and lies down on the bed, curling up and waiting for sleep to carry him into a new year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**DECEMBER 31, 09:24**

 

Guanlin wakes to the scent of something burning, and he realises that something other than the currently occurring kitchen catastrophe is very, very wrong. There’s no way Hyeongseob would be silly enough to make the same mistake three days in a row; and if this was a practical joke surely Euiwoong wouldn’t allow something so disruptive of his sleep; surely Seonho would be awake in order to witness the supposed hilarity; surely the three of them could think of something more amusing than whatever this bizarre, unsettling situation is.

 

Besides, Good Luck Pancakes are one thing, even Commiseratory Pancakes are understandable, but what in the world could today’s occasion be? Hasn’t Hyeongseob always been more of a waffle kind of guy, anyway?

 

It’s in a kind of daze that Guanlin rises from his bed and enters the kitchen; he goes through the motions of seizing a tea towel bearing the same pattern as yesterday, and waving it through the air in order to fan away the smoke.

 

When it stops, he’s far too lost in thought to say anything as he leans his cheek against Hyeongseob’s hair but his head snaps up when Euiwoong enters.

 

“Are you done? Like, is it over?”

 

“Shush you!” Seob balls up the tea towel and chucks it at the back of Euiwoong’s head. “Your bad vibes are going to ruin Guanlin’s groove!” The tea towel flops to the ground unheeded and Guanlin bends to pick it up.

 

“I think your catastrophic attempt at cooking has already done that,” Euiwoong replies without so much as looking at his attacker.

 

“Guanlin doesn’t have a groove. Seriously, have you never seen him dance?” chimes in Seonho as he joins them in the kitchen.

 

Stunned at the accuracy at which his friends are repeating their conversation from yesterday, Guanlin can’t even join in on the banter, which must concern Seonho who slings his arm around Guanlin’s shoulders.

 

“Hey man, don’t be too nervous. What will be will be. We’re just psyched you’re finally planning to say something.”

 

Guanlin nods and gives him a brief smile. “Thanks.”

 

Other than a few deviations centred around Guanlin’s apparently odd behaviour, everything happens just as it did yesterday. It still takes Guanlin several hours to receive Seonho’s approval of his outfit. His friends still leave him standing on the curb to be picked up by one Park Jihoon.

 

“Ready to go?” asks Jihoon after leaning across and rolling down the passenger side window.

 

Guanlin just nods and slips his phone into his back pocket before hopping in the car. “Thanks for the, uh, ride.”

 

“Anytime. Seonho said he couldn’t give you one?”

 

“Apparently not.”

 

It’s getting harder and harder to ignore, especially when Jihoon turns on the radio and the broadcaster wonders aloud if the last day of the year will bring with it the first snow of the season, before pressing play on the EXO track of the same name.

 

He can’t ignore that this is the same song they played yesterday at exactly the same time, with exactly the same introduction. He can’t ignore that the broadcaster is not talking about the first day of the new year, and is instead asking if it will snow ‘today’, the last day of the year. He can’t ignore that he knows the answer is yes.

 

Today is the same as yesterday. Today _is_ yesterday- and if that’s the case, the dream he had the night before last was probably not a dream. His first December 31st was spent waiting alone on a rooftop for Jihoon; as was his second. Now, this is his third.

 

He’s stuck in some sort of time loop, where every day is December 31st, and maybe it’s only been three days, but who knows how long he could say like this, trapped in the same twenty-four hours.

 

He’s seen enough movies, read enough books, to know that time loops, should they ever happen to occur, wouldn’t do so randomly. They happen for a reason and until he knows what that is, he won’t be able to break it.

 

A terrifying thought creeps up his spine and whispers in his ear. It questions why Jihoon didn’t come to the rooftop; reminds Guanlin that he didn’t see hide nor hair of Jihoon before the stroke of midnight when the day began again; demands why Guanlin had expected that someone no longer sober would have been able to climb the stairs safely. Having said its piece the thought buries into Guanlin’s chest, curling around his heart and squeezing.

 

He can barely force the words to come together in his brain but this fear is one he needs to address and, he dreads, it is one the Universe is asking him to fix.

 

What if Jihoon…

 

What if Jihoon had-

 

What if something had happened to Jihoon?

 

What if the last day of the year had also become the last day of Jihoon’s life and Guanlin had spent its final hours pitying himself for something so insignificant as an unreturned crush?

 

He feels sick.

 

“Pull over.”

 

“What?” asks Jihoon in surprise, glancing over at Guanlin before turning back to the road.

 

“Pull over. Please.”

 

Worried, Jihoon hastily brings the vehicle to a stop at the side of the road and Guanlin fumbles the door open, flinging himself out of the car in time to retch into the gutter. All he can feel is the burning in his throat and the way his heart is tearing itself up with guilt until a hand, warm and firm, finds its way to his back, rubbing in circles as Jihoon whispers soothingly in his ear.

 

_“It’s okay, it’s okay.”_

 

There are tears in Guanlin’s eyes, from the acidic burn and from the thought that very soon things might be very far from okay and he has no idea what to do about it. He’s hit with another wave of nausea at the thought and all he can do is let Jihoon wind an arm around his waist and hold him so that he doesn’t collapse. When his body finally stops convulsing, he sags back into Jihoon’s chest, wiping at his mouth with the sleeve of his jumper out of instinct but far too distraught to be self-conscious about how incredibly gross this situation is; throwing up in a gutter in Sinchon at 5pm in the afternoon.

 

Jihoon turns him around so he can peer into his face, and returns to rubbing his back. The look on his face is one of concerned consternation. “Guanlin, what the hell was that? Did you pre?”

 

Guanlin shakes his head weakly but Jihoon keeps talking, voice hushed but hard. “Who the hell pres this hard before 5pm in the afternoon? I swear I’m going to give Hyeongseob an earful-”

 

“I didn’t,” Guanlin protests. “I just… I’m not..I think I’m sick.”

 

“You think? God, Guanlin as if you were even planning to go to Minhyun’s in this state. I’m taking you home.”

 

“No!” he protests again, clutching at Jihoon with urgency. Jihoon taking him home means Guanlin won’t be at the party to keep an eye on him. To keep him safe. Alive. “I’m fine now, I promise. I really...I really want to see everyone, please. If I start feeling sick again I promise you can take me straight home.”

 

Jihoon runs a hand through his hair looking skeptical, but he sighs. “Okay. But that’s the condition, you start feeling sick, you call me and I’m taking you home straight away. I won’t drink so you can call me anytime. Promise?”

 

“I promise,” Guanlin reiterates firmly, tugging on Jihoon’s hand and leading him back to the car. Jihoon chucks him a water bottle and Guanlin gulps it down as he tries to calm his thudding heartbeat but it’s difficult to do when it quickens every time his thoughts stray towards Jihoon’s fate.

 

Except it’s not fate because fate is something inevitable, something that can’t be changed.

 

This isn’t fate because Guanlin is going to change it.

 

When they arrive, no one questions why they’re late - after all, they’re not the last ones to arrive, Jaehwan is still on his way from who knows where - but Jihoon murmurs something to Minhyun, who glances briefly at Guanlin before nodding. Wordlessly, Guanlin follows as Jihoon leads him to what he recognises as Minhyun’s bedroom. He sits on the end of the bed and watches Jihoon rifle through Minhyun’s closet, managing to find a sweater that will both fit Guanlin and match his outfit, as well as a packaged toothbrush after a similar fossick through the ensuite bathroom’s cupboards. Something swirls in the pit of his stomach at seeing Jihoon so familiar with Minhyun’s bedroom, his clothes and his things but he pushes it down. Now isn’t the time for jealousy. Besides, after seeing the upcoming proposal twice in as many days, he knows there isn’t anything to be jealous of.

 

Guanlin tries not to cling to Jihoon, his concern about just what it is that might happen, just what it is that will endanger his life, occupies his every thought but he can keep an eye on Jihoon from across the room. He doesn’t have to hold his hand. He doesn’t want Jihoon to become so annoyed with him that he deliberately tries to get away from him.

 

Except it’s in the moments after the proposal when everyone is spellbound that things start to go wrong, because Guanlin politely refuses Seonho’s invitation to dance and teasingly pulls a blushing Hyeongseob over instead.

 

By then, Jihoon has moved from where Guanlin had seen him earlier and uneasiness pools in his stomach as he begins to walk around the room, squeezing between people and ducking around elaborate dance moves in search of Jihoon.

 

To no avail.

 

His heart is in his throat because he can’t see Jihoon anywhere. How could he have let him disappear without noticing? How could Guanlin fail him the only time that Jihoon has ever needed him?

 

He tries not to look too frantic as he rushes from room to room looking for any sign of Jihoon’s honey-coloured hair or denim jacket. Minhyun’s apartment is bigger than most people's, that’s why he’s usually the one to host get togethers, but it’s no chaebol mansion and it shouldn’t be this hard to find one person. One person that Guanlin’s eyes have always somehow managed to find in a crowd whether he wanted to or not.

 

He’s closing the door of the laundry when Jisung calls out to him on his way down the hall. “Guanlin, you okay? Looking for someone?”

 

He clears his throat and tries to push down the panic that had been rising in his throat, that would look out of place to anyone who isn’t aware of the stakes of the situation. Anyone who isn’t Guanlin. “Uh, yeah, have you seen Jihoon?”

 

“I think I saw him in the kitchen just now but-”

 

Guanlin doesn’t wait for Jisung to finish, chirping out a “Thanks hyung!” as he rushes past, every cell in his body thrumming with the need to see Jihoon, to know that he’s okay and not lying in a pool of his own blood somewhere out of sight.

 

When he gets to the kitchen he almost doesn’t see Jihoon and it’s not hard to pick why he might have missed him the first time around. It’s hard to see someone when they’re being pinned to Minhyun’s fridge by Ong Seongwu. He does, however, get a good look at Jihoon’s face when Seongwu moves down to pay attention to his neck and Guanlin is frozen, watching as Seongwu presses kisses along Jihoon’s collarbone, as Jihoon’s expression, eyes closed, responds to the touch.

 

This is obviously what Jisung had been about to warn him of and the whiplash is extreme. The panic that had been rising in his throat out of concern for Jihoon’s safety now turns to bile at the sight before him. At a particularly loud gasp from Jihoon, Guanlin finds it in himself to shake off his shock enough to turn and leave, except the scene burnt into his retinas must have somehow affected his depth perception because his shoulder accidentally collides with the wall on his way out.

 

“Guanlin?”

 

His clumsiness must have been loud enough to disturb the couple canoodling in the kitchen. He takes a deep breath before turning around to find Jihoon looking a little sheepish and Seongwu an odd mix between pride and guilt. After all, it’s common knowledge to quite a few of their friends just how Guanlin feels - well, to most but Jihoon - although not the scale of it but Guanlin would rather break his own arm than have his friends limit themselves and their own chances for his sake.

 

“Uh, yeah sorry I’ll be going now.”

 

Seongwu looks like that’s explanation enough but the way he fiddles with the edge of Jihoon’s shirt isn’t enough to distract the other. “Is everything okay? Are you feeling sick again? Do you want me to take you home?”

 

Guanlin almost laughs. As a matter of fact, he does feel a little sick but not for the reason Jihoon might expect. He does want to go home, he wants to go home right now, he wants to go as far away from where he is right now as possible but he doesn’t want Jihoon to take him.

 

“No, I’m fine. I was just looking for someone,” Guanlin explains, studying the detailing of the splashback on the wall to Jihoon’s left. “Have you seen Jisung?”

 

“I think he was looking for something to clean up a spill in the lounge,” Seongwu helpfully supplies. “Have you tried the laundry?”

 

“No, I will. Thanks,” he says before beating a swift retreat.

 

Returning to the main room, he makes a bee line for where Seonho, Hyeongseob and some of the others are sitting on the couch. There’s no room for him to sit so he plonks himself onto Seonho’s lap, his friend barely batting an eyelid and winding his arms around Guanlin’s waist until he sees his expression.

 

“What’s wrong? Lin?”

 

He doesn’t know how to put what has just happened into words but as it turns out, he doesn’t have to, because it’s at that moment that Jihoon and Seongwu return from their kitchen escapades hand in hand.

 

“Oh,” utters Seonho and Guanlin knows that he instantly understands. He has always known him so well. “Oh Lin, I’m sorry.”

 

“S’okay,” he mumbles, twisting slightly so that he can bury his face in Seonho’s neck.

 

Seonho doesn’t say anything, just squeezes him tighter, and Hyeongseob who has broken off his conversation with Minghao after noticing Guanlin’s subdued mood, runs a consoling hand up and down Guanlin’s upper arm.

 

As much as Guanlin feels queasy at the sight of the two together, he knows that he would just be continuing his selfish streak if he were to forget the reason he’d been keeping an eye on Jihoon all night. Nothing has changed. In the hierarchy of importance, Guanlin’s feelings are way, way down low and Jihoon’s happiness as well as his safety are right at the top where they should be.

 

But Jihoon doesn’t leave the room again, not alone or with Seongwu or anyone else and as everyone stands for the final countdown in the last seconds of the year, he wonders if maybe he got things wrong. If Jihoon is in no danger, then there’s something else that happens, or doesn’t happen that must need changing. But how on Earth is he to work out what that is?

 

In the final seconds, Guanlin sees Seongwu lean down and he hopes the loop works in the way that he expects so that he won’t have to-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**DECEMBER 31, 09:24**

 

Guanlin wakes to the scent of something burning, and he wonders if it’s his heart still being quietly singed to pieces as a result of the image that had been scorched onto the back of his eyelids; the image of Jihoon caged up against the fridge in Minhyun’s kitchen, the image of Jihoon’s hands roaming up and down Seongwu in and over places that Guanlin would rather not think about. Try as he might, he can’t unsee the scene he witnessed, even though it’s not entirely surprising. Jihoon and Seongwu have been an on and off item for a while now; but never 'on' enough to be social media official, or even ‘let’s tell our friends’ official. He’d thought that they were ‘off’ at the moment but he supposes he’d been misinformed. As lowkey as the two have tried to keep things, it’s far from a secret because the rest of the group aren’t blind, although Guanlin almost wishes he was, just so that he wouldn't have had to witness in excruciating detail the way the boy he likes becomes pliant under the touch of another.

 

The smoke alarm is still blaring. Guanlin rolls over and leaves Hyeongseob to it. Maybe today Euiwoong will help.

 

(Given how long it takes for the racket to subside, he probably doesn’t.)

 

It’s silly, really, because it’s not like Guanlin has never, in the history of their friendship, seen Jihoon dating or whatever it is he classifies most of his connections as. In fact, Guanlin is willing to bet that at least a solid fifty percent of their friendship circle has been involved with Jihoon in one way or another but for whatever reason things have never eventuated into anything resembling a long-term relationship. But, for all Guanlin knows, Seongwu could be ‘the one’.

 

He’s broken out of his thoughts when Hyeongseob knocks on his door, opening it and calling softly, “Guanlin, are you up? I made breakfast.”

 

Guanlin shifts until he’s facing the door and gives his friend a weak smile. “I’m sorry Seob, I’m not feeling too well. I don’t think I’ll be up and about much today.”

 

Hyeongseob comes to sit on the edge of his bed in concern. “Is this about Jihoon? Don’t feel pressured, you can still come with us and enjoy the party; you don’t have to say anything if you’ve changed your mind.”

 

“I, no, it’s not quite that but I think I need some bed rest; a day to myself. If that’s okay?”

 

“Of course it’s okay, I’ll let the others know to give you some space,” Hyeongseob reassures him and he’s overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude.

 

“Thanks,” he whispers, voice cracking and Hyeongseob pats his hair before leaving him to allow tears to drip off his eyelashes in private as he falls back asleep.

 

Later, Euiwoong brings in a cup of tea and lets him know that they’re leaving. “It’s not too late to come,” he says but Guanlin is quite obviously a bit of a puffy-eyed mess and neither of them is surprised when he says he’ll stay home.

 

After hearing the front door close, he sinks back into his pillow and lets emotional exhaustion carry him back to sleep. When he wakes, he can’t smell anything burning so it musn’t be morning yet but nevertheless the occasional clunk and clatter alerts him to the fact that somebody is in the kitchen and he wonders if one of the boys has come back early from the party.

 

Yet when he wanders out of his room, bare feet silent on the floorboards, it’s Jihoon he sees at the stove, stirring a pot. Guanlin can’t think of a reason why Jihoon would be here and not at the party when he could be cheering for Minhyun and Jonghyun’s engagement and giving Seongwu a celebratory New Year’s Eve snog. Clearly, even after a day of moodily lounging about his room, he is still a little touchy on the subject (to be fair, he’d thought Jihoon was going to _die_ , not that he’d be compromising the sanctity of Minhyun’s pristine kitchen) but whatever he’s making smells delicious and Guanlin’s stomach rumbles, grumpily reminding him that he’s barely eaten anything all day. The sound of his hunger must reach Jihoon’s ears because the older is looking over at him with a soft smile.

 

“You’re awake.”

 

“You’re in my house.”

 

“Observant as always,” Jihoon teases lightly. “Hyeongseob gave me his key. Take a seat, this’ll be ready in a moment.”

 

Wordlessly, Guanlin moves to sit on one of their worn wooden stools by the bench, watching as Jihoon turns back to the stove and switches off the gas, carrying the pot over to settle on the chopping board in front of him. It’s soup, chicken soup. Guanlin catches sight of himself in the reflection on the stainless steel pot and discovers he has a terrible case of bed hair. Patting it down probably won’t fix it but he tries anyway.

 

“Why are you here?” Guanlin wonders aloud.

 

“You’re sick,” Jihoon simply says, spooning the soup into a couple of bowls and pushing one towards Guanlin.

 

“I...am, but why are you here, hyung?”

 

“What kind of hyung would I be if I didn’t come look after you for a bit when you’re not feeling well? If I didn’t come feed you? By the sounds of it, you weren’t planning to do it yourself.”

 

“What about Minhyun’s?” he asks, stirring his soup slowly. “What about the proposal?”

 

“How do you know about that?” Jihoon tilts his head to the side, curious. “Did Minhyun tell you or something?”

 

“Uh, something like that. It's on Snapchat.” It probably is. He hasn't checked. Guanlin hastily tries to change the subject. “What about Seongwu?”

 

That question surprises Jihoon more than the last. “What _about_ Seongwu?”

 

“I thought, you know, you guys were going to get back together, or something. Isn’t...wouldn’t tonight be a good time?” He’s still staring down at his bowl, chasing pieces of chicken through the broth with his spoon.

 

Jihoon must have taken a spoonful of his own meal because Guanlin’s head jerks up at the sound of spluttering. “What? No, Seongwu and I aren’t...we’re not...why would you think that?”

 

“Hyung.”

 

“Okay, I mean we..we..” Jihoon, pink-faced and rubbing the back of his neck, looks as if he’s unable to describe the exact nature of their activities to Guanlin. Good thing he doesn’t need to because Guanlin has already seen it first-hand, not that Jihoon would remember. Instead, Jihoon lets the pause speak for itself. “But we’re not _together_ together.”

 

Heart daring to feel just a little lighter at the assertion, Guanlin can’t help but snort at the choice of words. “You sound like you’re in middle school talking about the difference between ‘like’ and ‘ _like_ like’.”

 

“He has a thing for Daniel anyway,” Jihoon says offhandedly after pinching Guanlin’s nose for the comment.

 

“Doesn’t everyone have a thing for Daniel?”

 

“Do _you_  have a thing for Daniel?” Guanlin suddenly finds the inquisition turned on himself.

 

“What? No!” he quickly denies. The idea of Jihoon, the object of his affections, thinking he has an interest in anyone else is comically jarring.

 

“Good.”

 

“Good? _Good?_ What does that mean? Do _you_ still have a thing for Daniel?”

 

Jihoon laughs at Guanlin’s wide-eyed expression. “Finish your soup.”

 

He does, and he comes to realise that there was little point trying to fix his bed hair because the warmth of the food and Jihoon’s company has made him sleepy. It takes three yawns before Jihoon is insisting he go back to sleep and pushing him towards his room.

 

Tucked into bed, fed and cared for, Guanlin feels a lot better than he did when he’d first woken this morning. He didn’t come down with a cold like Jihoon seems to think but the intensity of events and the extremity of the emotions he’s felt in the last few days has drained him. He needed time to recuperate and get his thoughts together and, with the knowledge this day will repeat and erase itself, he feels emboldened to ask for something he wants dearly, now that Jihoon is within his grasp. Now that he knows there are no toes to tread on in terms of Seongwu or Daniel or anyone else.

 

When Jihoon turns off the light and starts to leave, Guanlin, already half asleep, finds himself murmuring an objection. The sound that escapes his throat does not resemble any word in Korean or Mandarin but Jihoon must know what he means because he stops in his tracks.

 

Guanlin swallows, fighting the waves of unconsciousness that are threatening to sweep him away from shore and mumbles, “Stay.”

 

Guanlin is the only one who will bear the consequences of this; the consequences of sleeping in the arms of the boy he loves, who might just see this as a platonic duty or favour to a friend. Guanlin’s heart will grow all the fonder for the proximity but Jihoon’s will not change, will remain out of reach because he will not remember. But Guanlin doesn’t care. Maybe some people, given the infinite potential of a time loop, would be ambitious in how they choose to spend it; fly to Paris, buy a winning lottery ticket, tell their boss what they really thought of them to their face.

 

But Guanlin is a simple man and all he really wants in this moment is to know what it is like to fall asleep in Jihoon’s arms and so he says again, “Stay.”

 

And Jihoon does.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**DECEMBER 31, 09:24**

 

Guanlin wakes to the scent of something burning but most importantly, he wakes up alone. Which should be something he’s used to; it’s what he does everyday but there’s something especially cold about it now that’s he’s experienced what it’s like to fall asleep cocooned in Jihoon’s warmth. Stretching out, the chill of the undisturbed sheets beside him brings with it an unexpected peace that cannot be disrupted even by the smoke alarm.

 

Seonho would definitely have told him it was a terrible idea, but now Guanlin feels as if he’s experienced a little of what his daydreams would be like should they ever have become real. He’s made peace with the fact that they won’t, but at least now he can put them to rest. Or he will, once he confesses.

 

Today, he tells himself, is _the day_ , but as _the day_ progresses, that peace, however, begins to change, to transform, to transfer its energy until it becomes a restless vibration that has Guanlin pulling on Seonho’s hand, leading him out of the room before Jihoon can come over to ask for a dance. He doesn’t see the frown that creases the smooth skin of Jihoon’s forehead as he stops in his tracks at the sight of the boy he was going to approach leaving hand in hand with another.

 

“What’s going on?” Seonho asks once they’re alone in the hallway.

 

“I’m nervous, I don’t think I’m going to have an opportunity to tell him.”

 

“You’re definitely not going to have an opportunity if you keep avoiding him.”

 

“I’m not avoiding him!” he retracts his statement once he sees the look on Seonho’s face. “Okay, maybe I am but I just- I feel ready, and then I don’t, and then I do-”

 

Seonho places his hands on Guanlin’s shoulders in an effort to calm him. “You’re never going to be totally ready, but Jihoon is always going to be Jihoon. He’s always going to think the world of you and that’s not going to change if you don’t confess today. It’s also not going to change if you do. The result will be the same either way, it’s just you who has to be prepared to accept whatever result that is.”

 

“Who are you and what have you done with Yoo Seonho?”

 

“Shut up! I can give decent advice sometimes.”

 

“‘Decent’? Somebody’s full of themselves.”

 

“Whatever,” Seonho sniffs as they make their way back into the main room. “You’d be lost without me.”

 

Guanlin reaches over to give his best friend’s hand a quick squeeze. “Yes, I would.”

 

He is, however, still a little unsure about his specific course of action so he decides to go back to where his decision of action began. He doesn’t invite Jihoon this time, he figures that he can always do so later but right now, he needs time alone to think. Guanlin’s attention has been split between two priorities; figuring out whether or not to confess, and figuring out the reason for the time loop. It’s not until he’s standing on the rooftop yet again, gazing out at the stars and remembering the promise he’d made last year, that he thinks he might be starting to put everything together.

 

There must be a reason that it’s Guanlin of all people who is stuck in this situation. A reason why Guanlin, known for taking his New Year’s resolutions seriously but having not yet completed this one, is being given the same day to repeat over and over. When he thinks about it like that, everything seems so simple. The fluctuating glow of the stars as they pierce through the darkness of the night sky suddenly seems more like the undulations of laughter.

 

It’s not only his friends who have been waiting for him to make a move, but the Universe too, seems to be waiting for his promise to be fulfilled.

 

Of course, for now it is only a working hypothesis, and he's not entirely sure why the Universe would _care_ , but he doesn't have any other ideas. He won’t know if it’s true until he tests it, and to be quite honest he is getting a little sick of the smell of charred pancakes. Yet when he goes downstairs, ready to approach the situation with renewed vigour, Jihoon is nowhere to be seen. It’s a bit of a let down, really, but Guanlin won’t let his determination diminish.

 

If he misses Jihoon this time he will just try again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.

 

 _Ten_.

 

It’s not until the countdown to the new year begins that Guanlin catches sight of Jihoon. Or is it that Jihoon catches sight of Guanlin? Because the older is pushing his way through the press of people with an urgency that leaves Guanlin bewildered. Several people look as if they might be trying to hold Jihoon back or slow him down but to no avail. Guanlin doesn’t recognise the look on his hyung’s face.

 

 _Nine_.

 

Is it anger?

 

Not quite.

 

_Eight._

 

Is it fear?

 

Not as such.

 

 _Seven_.

 

He finally, finally realises just what it might be when Jihoon is standing in front of him.

 

 _Six_.

 

He knows for sure what it is when Jihoon, not even waiting for the countdown to reach zero, laces his hands behind Guanlin’s neck and crashes their lips together with all the force of a runaway train.

 

_Five._

 

Somebody screams. It’s not Guanlin because all of the breath has been sucked out of his lungs, almost literally. He can taste cheap beer on Jihoon’s breath and he wonders just how much he’s been drinking; just how much it must take for Jihoon to do whatever he is doing for whatever reason he is doing it. Guanlin has been avoiding Jihoon for most of the night and so if there is an obvious reason for Jihoon to have had one too many, he has probably missed it.

 

 _Four_.

 

Guanlin wants to pull away to ask Jihoon what is going on, to look for the cameras but at the same time he doesn’t, can’t, it’s as if he’s magnetised to Jihoon’s lips and part of him wants to make the most of it. He knows there can only be mere seconds left ‘til midnight. Mere seconds, milliseconds even, before this moment is forced to end.

 

_Three._

 

Guanlin kisses back and Jihoon’s response is to smile against his lips, pressing himself further against Guanlin until the younger is forced to snake his arms around his waist to stop them falling over.

 

 _Two_.

 

This is more than the average ‘Happy New Year’ kiss, in fact, it is not even the New Year yet but Guanlin is so consumed by the taste of Jihoon and the fire racing through his veins that he wouldn’t know what year it was or even what century.

 

_One._

  
Guanlin doesn't let go but Jihoon is ripped away from him by the winds of time anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**DECEMBER 31, 09:24**

 

Guanlin wakes to the scent of something burning, but he can barely hear the smoke alarm over the roar of blood in his ears and the thudding of his heart going into overdrive, even though he is now alone. As usual, his physicality is reset along with events; no bumps or bruises or hangovers but somehow his lips still remember just how Jihoon’s felt against them. Not that Jihoon will remember anything of the sort. Today’s Jihoon has never kissed today’s Guanlin. As of this morning, what was such a dramatic turn of events for Guanlin, has never actually happened.

 

Except, it did, to him.

 

Guanlin still remembers, dear God he is surely never going to forget, and whatever hocus pocus heals and mends his body, it can do nothing for the emotional impact of having the life drunkenly kissed out of him by the boy he’s loved since high school.

 

Of course, the kiss can hardly be taken as evidence that Jihoon returns his feelings. Jihoon was drunk. Guanlin technically wasn't sober either, but he shouldn’t have kissed back. Surely, though, he can be forgiven for having just the slightest spark of hope being lit within the cage of his ribs. However, just because it is understandable, it is not necessarily helpful - because he doesn’t know why Jihoon kissed him, and now it’s impossible for him to ask without sounding absolutely deluded. Jihoon wouldn’t know what he was talking about and nor would anyone else.

 

Kicking his legs under the blankets in frustration, Guanlin wonders just where he is meant to go from here. Of course, in one sense he does know, he has to go just where he has been going everyday for however long it’s been and just where he must go for the foreseeable future until something goes his way to change things. He goes to the party.

 

Except this time, he doesn’t even pretend to fall for Seonho’s shoelace trick (now that he’s heard it several days in a row he wonders how he’d ever fallen for such a basic attempt at deception). He does whatever he can to avoid being left behind, challenges Hyeongseob to a pittance of a race from their front door to the car, so that he won’t have to accept a ride from Jihoon.

 

After the events of last night - (even referring to it as such makes him blush) - the idea of spending any length of time in a confined space with a cluelessly tempting Jihoon sounds like Guanlin’s idea of torture. To have to make small talk and listen to the radio as if he isn’t thinking about what it felt like to have Jihoon sighing into his mouth is no small feat and not something he thinks he is up to.

 

When he’d woken that morning to the familiar scent of burnt pancakes, Guanlin had let almost everything progress as usual but this time, when Guanlin invites Jihoon to the rooftop, he leaves the room but doesn’t head up the stairs. Instead he waits, he wants to know why Jihoon decides not to go. It’s barely a few moments later when, from his inconspicuous spot, hidden in the shadows of the stairwell, he sees Jinyoung all but manhandle Jihoon into one of the empty rooms and his stomach drops. He pushes down the guilt that this is technically spying but his feet are moving of their own accord, taking him towards the door and a sight he’s not sure he wants to see.

 

The two had obviously been too preoccupied to close the door properly and the slightest sliver that remains open provides Guanlin with a channel to hear what is being said and, if he maneuvers himself carefully and quietly, he can even see the back of Jihoon’s head as he faces Jinyoung.

 

They’re not doing whatever it is that Guanlin had feared initially but the relief is short-lived when he realises that they are arguing. He’s missed the beginning of the conversation but even from behind the barrier of the wooden door, he can feel the hostility rolling off Jinyoung in waves.

 

Guanlin can’t see Jihoon’s face but he can see the defensive set of his shoulders as he says with agitation, “I don’t know. _I don’t know._ ”

 

“Not good enough.” Guanlin has never seen Jinyoung angry; he doesn’t seem the type to yell or shout so this sharp tone, hard from compressed fury, is what Jinyoung would sound like if he ever had.

 

“What do you want me to do?”

 

“Think about your actions for once, maybe? Don’t think we didn’t see that dancing stunt you pulled in front of everyone out there.”

 

“I wasn’t doing anything Seonho hadn’t already done.”

 

“It’s different if it’s you, and you know it.” There’s silence, Jihoon doesn’t reply and Guanlin desperately wishes he could see his face. “I can’t believe you don’t feel even a little guilty.”

 

“You don’t know anything about how I feel.”

 

“No,” Jinyoung acknowledges tersely. “I don’t, and you know who else doesn’t? Guanlin. Because you never- you never fucking tell him anything, and it’s not fair. He-” Jinyoung’s voice cracks with emotion and Guanlin flushes with embarrassment at his next words, “he likes you _so much_ , you can’t even imagine.”

 

Jihoon’s voice is so quiet, Guanlin almost doesn’t catch it. But he does, and he almost wishes he didn’t.

 

“I know.”

 

Jihoon knows.

 

 _Jihoon knows_.

 

It’s then that everything around Guanlin shatters. He’s been foolish, childish even, and that’s the truth of it. It was naive of him to think that Jihoon wouldn’t have found out.

 

_God, has he known this whole time?_

 

Against his will, Guanlin’s eyes prick with tears of humiliation at the thought that every interaction they’ve had for who knows how long has been overshadowed in Jihoon’s mind by the knowledge that the younger was in love with him. His fear that Jihoon would twist things and view their whole friendship in light of Guanlin’s feelings has come true; has probably been true for a long, long time.

 

As the sea of embarrassment threatens to drown him, a spark of anger rises like a jagged peak of rock amidst the waves. Who is Jihoon to make him feel humiliated for the simple act of feeling? Of existing at the same time as experiencing what is a natural, human emotion?

 

All this time Guanlin has been happy in love, as best he can, because there is something beautiful about caring for someone else so deeply that it leaves a mark on you that no other has. With love comes the best of human emotion - compassion, selflessness, joy at the happiness of another regardless of your own misfortune - and damn Jihoon for making him ashamed of that for the very first time.

 

He leaves as quietly as he can, unable to stomach hearing any more and aware that as much as this is something he should talk to Jihoon about, he is in no fit state to do so currently. If he were to confront Jihoon now, he’s not sure what he’d say or what he’d do and this isn’t the version of December 31 he wants to stick. Maybe, if he can think rationally before midnight strikes, he will have the chance to talk things over with Jihoon. Then and only then, when his storm of negativity stops raging and calms enough for him to see clearly, will he go and approach Jihoon.

 

But it doesn’t stop, so he doesn’t go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**DECEMBER 31, 09:24**

 

Guanlin wakes to the scent of something burning, and all he can do is lie in bed with his fists clenched until his anger has dulled to a more manageable smolder, something less likely to set the house on fire. It is thanks, in part, to being doused by the wave of helplessness that swamps him and threatens to sweep him away.

 

What is the point of confessing when Jihoon already knows? When he knows, has always known, and has done nothing. That’s answer enough, isn’t it? Answer enough for Guanlin to conclude what this is really all about.

 

It’s not until this moment that he realises that he had hoped at all, let alone how much, for Jihoon to return his feelings. But now it’s crystal clear that it’s the furthest thing from a possibility. Guanlin had convinced himself that he was content with how things were, that he never expected anything of Jihoon, but the shards of ice threading through his ribs and into his heart have proved him to be a liar.

 

He is hurt by a loss of a hope he should not have dared to have. A hope that others would have pitied him for; a hope he hated himself for even considering in his weakest moments, but apparently was unable to refrain from harbouring, even if he had denied it to himself all this time.

 

Ironically, the revelation might not have hit so hard if not for the unexpected New Year’s kiss that Jihoon had initiated.

 

Isn’t it the most natural thing; to love and want to be loved in return? But reciprocity is reserved for anyone but him, or so it feels.

 

He doesn’t go to the party, but he doesn’t stay at home and wallow in self-pity like he had the day after finding Seongwu and Jihoon together. He tells his friends that he got called in to cover a shift at work. It’s a pity, he says, but they understand that 24 hour convenience stores are not only the backbone of modern society, but also the equivalent of an emergency service when it comes to New Year’s Eve celebrations.

 

He doesn’t go to work, though, they don’t need him and instead he walks to the bus stop and takes whichever bus comes next. He settles himself up the back by the window with no idea where he is going but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t intend to get off. He watches through the dusty window as the landscape around him changes, clinging to the last hours of sunlight, and when the stars come out to greet him they remind him of the dream that had consumed his sleeping hours so often recently before this whole conundrum.

 

The dream where he feels like he’s flying.

 

Finding out that Jihoon knows about his supposedly secret affections has pulled the rug out from beneath Guanlin’s feet but now, if there’s one thing he knows for sure, it’s that this trap of a time loop isn’t about giving Guanlin his happy end; it’s about setting him free.

 

He just has to take the leap.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**DECEMBER 31, 09:24**

 

Guanlin wakes to the scent of something burning and he takes a moment to revel in it. He’s going to make sure this is the last time he will wake to the sounds of a smoke alarm, the last time he will live out this year’s December 31st, and, if he dares to hope, the last time Hyeongseob will burn pancakes.

 

This time, when Guanlin invites Jihoon to the roof, he doesn’t say ‘come find me later’, doesn’t give him the option to join him for fresh air as if that’s the priority here, doesn’t give Jihoon room to do anything but say yes or no when he asks, “Can we go somewhere else? There’s something I need to tell you.”

 

This time, he doesn’t care that it is obvious what he must want to tell Jihoon. He knows that Jihoon already knows and he’s grateful that Jihoon is willing to go with him.

 

This time, he will not be alone on the rooftop and he hopes that this will make all the difference.

 

But some things never change; in life there are always constants that are forgotten in the heat of the moment, in the excitement of the stars aligning, we forget that the Earth is fixed in its orbit.

 

Guanlin forgets that he is clumsy.

 

Some things never change.

 

Jihoon is ahead of him on the stairs when Guanlin trips. He twists as he falls, to prevent himself from smashing his teeth on the steps but in doing so he lands awkwardly on his arm. Guanlin’s shout of pain is enough to alert Jihoon and anyone else nearby that it is broken.

 

This, he laughs to himself as the shock sets in, this is why the Universe needed to give him a helping hand. He’s so incredibly capable of ruining perfect opportunities himself that divine intervention is required.

 

It’s less funny when he’s bundled into the car by Jisung in order to be taken to the hospital. That's when it hits him just how deeply entrenched his ridiculous, hopeless love for Jihoon is because it’s still all he can think about. It’s Jihoon who is holding his hand, thumb rubbing circles into his skin that burn as much as they comfort and Guanlin feels like crying because somehow Jihoon’s worry and Jihoon’s attentiveness hurt more than the fissure in his radius and _how messed up is that?_ How messed up is it that Guanlin’s emotions are so attuned to Jihoon’s that everything else is a blur and, God, how does he even _begin_ to undo that? How will he ever undo what Jihoon has done to him; what he has done to himself?

 

Today he was going to set himself free but maybe freedom isn’t an option. Maybe he will always be like this, tied to Jihoon, heart to hand.

 

And if Guanlin does cry, he has far too much justification for bursting into a noisy fit of suppressed sobs but he can’t, not in the back of Jisung’s Mitsubishi Mirage in full view of the rearview mirror, and certainly not in front of Jihoon whose gaze hasn’t left him since he turned in horror to see Guanlin lying on the stairs. A few of the tears to which he is entitled slip down his nose in silence and Guanlin, unable to wipe them away, tucks his chin into his chest in an attempt to disguise them.

 

The minutes tick away as the three of them sit in the waiting room and as the night draws on, Guanlin is less and less concerned about the proximity of midnight, even though there is over an hour left. When Guanlin returns all bandaged up, Jisung is nowhere to be seen and Jihoon explains that Daniel came to pick him up while they were waiting for Guanlin to be treated.

 

“Then how are we getting home? Neither of us can drive.”

 

“I can drive,” corrects Jihoon as he walks Guanlin to the car.

 

“But you’ve been drinking-”

 

“No, I haven’t. I had one drink at 6pm. It’s just past 11 now, I’m fine.”

 

“Then why did Jisung-”

 

“He didn’t think I was in a fit state to drive.”

 

“But you are now?” Guanlin asks as Jihoon leans over him to buckle his seatbelt.

 

The older sends him a small smile before straightening. “You’re okay now. So yes I am.”

 

The drive to Guanlin’s place is quiet but as they pull up out front, Jihoon seems to have been mulling something over.

 

“The others, they’re all leaving tomorrow, right? They’re going to their hometowns.”

 

Guanlin nods, regretful that he is not able to do the same this year.

 

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” Jihoon asks in concern.

 

“Of course, I do have two arms, you know,” Guanlin answers easily. He’ll be fine, it’s a quarter to midnight and he hasn’t said anything even vaguely self-incriminating so tomorrow he won’t even have a broken arm, but he can’t tell Jihoon that.

 

“Exactly, and you’re used to having two arms. I had to help you buckle your seat belt, how are you going to cook? Or do the washing?”

 

“I’ll manage,” he responds lightly but Jihoon is still frowning.

 

“I think you should consider having someone help you. It’ll only be for a few weeks while your arm heals, but what do you think about me coming round to lend a hand?”

 

What does he think?

 

It’s too much.

 

After the stress of the last few days, the idea of Jihoon staying by his side like that is overwhelming because isn't this all about him learning to let go?

 

He can't let go if Jihoon reaches for him like this. Guanlin needs to let go but Jihoon won't allow him and he didn’t realise until now that Jihoon was even holding on. Guanlin doesn't think about why Jihoon might be reaching out, offering what Jisung or anyone else might be better equipped to do. Guanlin doesn't think about the consequences of his words, of what they might lead him to reveal because in this moment he is consumed by an ingrained instinct for self-preservation; an instinct that tells him he won’t be able to cope if he starts seeing Jihoon everyday with a regularity he hasn’t experienced since early high school. In this moment Jihoon’s offer of help is an attack on all that Guanlin has been trying to achieve these past few days, however many days, stuck in this never ending loop. But Guanlin wants it to end; Guanlin wants to be free. So he gathers all that frustrated desperation and galvanises it into words.

 

"I don't want you to."

 

"Why?" Jihoon’s tone is bewildered but his eyes, his eyes are clear and calm as if he knows just what kind of territory he is broaching. Jihoon has always known more than Guanlin has wanted to give him credit for and maybe that was his mistake from the beginning.

 

"Because I want you to," he mumbles as he resolutely looks away from Jihoon out the car window.

 

"Guanlin, are you sure you didn’t hit your head on the way down? That doesn't make any-"

 

"Because I want you to,” he repeats before adding softly, “Because I want… you."

 

Jihoon doesn't say anything and Guanlin wishes he could say the same for himself.

 

"But I don't want to want you," he mumbles before falling into silence.

 

Ultimately, it’s kind of humiliating because how terribly in love must Guanlin be if he is unable to bear even the most platonic of kindness from the object of his affections for fear of its impact? How awfully weak must he be that even the smallest of things makes him fall deeper? How pathetic that he is more concerned for his heart than his health when he has just come from the ER after falling down the stairs? Although his splintered bone has been treated and is assured to heal with time, Guanlin can't say the same for his broken heart.

 

He hasn’t said the L word yet, either of them, but he’s said enough, so he fumbles to unbuckle his seatbelt and gets out of the car.

 

Jihoon does the same, closing the driver’s side door with a thud and walking around until he is standing millimetres from the back that Guanlin has turned to him. The younger’s heart thuds with the magnitude of the contradiction that is wanting someone to be both far away and infinitely closer at the same time.

 

"Look at me."

 

Jihoon’s voice is velvet soft in the way that it always is when convincing someone to do what he wants and Guanlin, in spite of himself, finds himself turning back to face Jihoon because, isn’t he always? Isn’t he always looking at Jihoon? Even when the other is not looking back.

 

Jihoon’s words have brought them so close together that it’s almost as if they’re sharing breath in the gap where the night air seeks to keep them apart. Or they would be, if Guanlin could actually breathe.

 

"Look at me," Jihoon says again, his voice a whisper that would surely feel like a caress even if he had not brought a hand up to cradle Guanlin’s jaw.

 

Guanlin is flustered but he still has enough presence of mind to be slightly indignant.

 

_Look at me._

 

Guanlin has only ever looked at Jihoon. Out of the two of them, Guanlin is the one who should be asking such a thing but he can’t. Won’t. If anything he’ll need the time to build up the courage to ask for anything on top of his earlier admission and he knows he doesn't have it. The time or the courage. (Or the self-entitlement).

 

If all those days, all those 31st’s of December, have taught him anything useful, it’s how to gauge the passing of time and Guanlin can feel it in his bones that midnight is close. This is the closest he has come to confessing properly and he wonders if this time it will count enough to release him but Guanlin also knows that the Universe is unpredictable; he’s just as likely to have misunderstood Her intentions, just as likely to be sent back to the beginning, to his bed and to Hyeongseob's kitchen nightmare, and part of him, despite his earnest desire to move forward, is just the slightest bit glad. Relieved. Waking up tomorrow on December 31, Guanlin will be without a broken arm and Jihoon without memory of Guanlin’s foolishness, just like every other time.

 

He’d seen the end as soon as he’d overheard Jihoon and Jinyoung. As soon as he’d learned what Jihoon knew. He’d seen the end and this is it but nevertheless he’s unprepared to have reached the end of the line, to find no more connections to be made, no more trains waiting. All that is left is go back the way he has come. To the start. He is almost looking forward to it. It will greet him kindly unlike this empty deadend storyline in which he has found himself.

 

But there is still something kind in Jihoon’s fingers on his jaw. Almost something more than kind, but it’s no use asking Jihoon to look at him when he won't even meet his eyes now. While Guanlin’s eyes bore into Jihoon’s face, the older doesn't even bother with eye contact, instead looking down at ―

 

Oh God, is Jihoon looking at his mouth?

 

Heat races through Guanlin’s body at the memory of the last time Jihoon looked at him like that and he knows that he will be in no fit state for rational thinking if Jihoon kisses him again. He sucks in a breath because he wants, he _wants_ to move just that short distance, those few centimetres, so that their lips connect again because he knows how it feels now but what he wants more is answers.

 

“Stop.” He takes a step back. The hurt in Jihoon’s expression pains Guanlin more than his broken arm but it’s necessary. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

 

“Doing what?”

 

Guanlin growls a little in frustration and gestures between them. “ _This_.”

 

“Do you not want me to?”

 

“Of course I-” he breaks off. “You know I do. I know you know.” Jihoon doesn’t say anything so Guanlin continues. “But I don’t think we have the same reasons for wanting to.”

 

“And what’s your reason?” There’s a hint of humour tugging at Jihoon’s mouth and as much as Guanlin sees it for what it is, a defence mechanism, it frustrates him, that Jihoon wants him to say something that they both already know.

 

“What’s my reason?” Guanlin repeats, voice hard but it shakes as he says the next words out loud for the first time. They’ve come this far, he doesn’t want to go through this all again, to get to this point, and he doesn’t want Jihoon to forget this conversation. “I’m in love with you. Now what’s yours?”

 

Jihoon struggles for words and Guanlin doesn't care what they are, he just wants Jihoon to say something. He wants to finally understand what is going on in Jihoon’s head. What makes its way out of Jihoon's mouth is: “I want to take care of you. I don’t want you to be hurting.”

 

“Well I am hurting. You’ve hurt me,” Guanlin regrets the way he’s said it because Jihoon genuinely flinches, as if the very idea of hurting Guanlin distresses every cell in his body. “I know you don’t mean to but you do. Every time you act like this.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like you’re in love with me.”

 

“Maybe I am.”

 

A laugh escapes Guanlin’s lips but there’s no humour in it. Now if that isn’t the most ridiculous thing he’s heard all week. “ _‘Maybe’_? You don’t need to say things that aren’t true. This isn’t protecting me. Why can’t you just say ‘no’?”

 

“Because the answer isn’t no.” Guanlin’s stomach drops at the words and he waits for Jihoon to elaborate but all he does is repeat himself. “The answer isn’t no.”

 

“Then why,” Guanlin watches Jihoon’s hands clench and unclench at his side and he wants to take them between his own and land soft kisses over his knuckles and against the skin of his palms until the tension releases. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

 

“Saying yes would hurt you more than if I said no, or didn’t say anything at all.”

 

With every word that comes out of Jihoon’s mouth, Guanlin is left to ask more and more questions, and at the crux of all of them; _why_? Except he doesn’t have to ask this time because Jihoon continues of his own accord.

 

“I’m a mess Guanlin, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to see me fuck up relationship after relationship, even within our own friendship circle, because I’m sure that hurt to watch but I’d rather that than you becoming one of them.”

 

“Have you ever thought about what it would be like to try?”

 

Jihoon shuts his eyes for the briefest of moments and when he opens them, Guanlin can see something glimmering in his irises that has always been there but suppressed, dampened, never allowed to see the light of day. “All the time. I think about it all the time.” Jihoon's voice is raw and for the first time Guanlin considers that maybe he isn't the only one who has been hurting.

 

That’s the most honest thing Guanlin’s heard him say tonight, or this week, or ever and it gives permission for the hope in his chest, still alive after all this time, to properly spread its wings.

 

Guanlin takes one step forward, bringing them back to where they had been before. He reaches down to interlace his fingers with Jihoon’s hand and looks into his eyes.

 

“I want to try,” he says, holding up his other hand where the pinky finger is poised, waiting to partner in a new promise.

 

Jihoon looks from Guanlin’s hand to his face for a long moment before twining their fingers together. “Okay, let’s do it.”

 

This time, they lean forward to seal it with a kiss.

 

Unseen, the smartwatch on Jihoon’s wrist ticks over.

 

**JANUARY 1, 00:01**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this kind of ran away from me so props to you if you've made it all the way to the end!! as always, feedback on how I can improve my writing for next time is super duper welcome~  
> xoxo
> 
> p.s. if you feel like it, come say hi over on twitter! you can find me at [@ahgawinks](https://twitter.com/ahgawinks)


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